Se connecterThe next few days passed in a strange, muted haze on the set of Star Crossed Lovers. The vibrant energy that usually defined the production had dimmed. Ahaan and Aneet moved in the same orbit but were separated by a million miles of unspoken words and deliberate avoidance.
They saw each other on set, sometimes just a few feet apart, sometimes standing near the same craft table. But they didn’t speak. Their schedules barely aligned, their characters didn’t share scenes that week.
Ahaan kept his distance with almost surgical precision and every time Aneet gathered courage to walk up to him, he slipped away into another shot or into a conversation with the crew. If she approached from the right, he stepped left.
He'd always ask if she needed anythi
The sound was faint at first, a choked gasp from the ensuite bathroom. Then it came again. Elina’s soft retching dragged Francis out of sleep for the second morning in a row. He was on his feet before his eyes fully adjusted to the pre-dawn gloom filtering through the windows.He found her kneeling on the cool marble tiles, a trembling figure in one of his oversized white t-shirts, one hand braced against the tub, the other fisted in her hair as if grounding herself.“Elina,” he said quietly, already kneeling behind her. He knelt beside her, gathering her sweat-damp hair in one hand and placing a cool, damp cloth on the nape of her neck with the other. “Easy. I’ve got you.”She leaned into him without argument this time, her body sma
Francis wasn’t sated. Even as Elina's breaths evened, he rolled her onto her back again, eyes devouring her flushed form. “Not done yet, angel. These tits need more attention.”His voice was a gravelly command, laced with that unquenchable hunger that made her pulse race despite the exhaustion settling into her limbs. Elina's chest heaved, her massive D-cup breasts still glistening from their earlier frenzy, red marks blooming where his teeth and fingers had claimed them. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, her love for this man, a fierce, all-consuming fire, burning brighter than any fatigue.“Francis... you know I’m yours. Do whatever you want to me.”He straddled her waist without a word, his muscular thighs pinning her
Elina’s brows lifted, a playful spark in her eyes as she gazed up at him. “And what exactly are you planning?”Francis stepped toward her, his large hands capturing her waist in a possessive hold, pulling her flush against the hard planes of his body. “Reminding you who fucking own you,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her core.“Possessive much?” she teased, though her breath hitched sharply when his fingers traced the curve of her hip, dipping just under the waistband of her jeans, sending a shiver racing up her spine.“Obsessive,” he corrected, leaning in so close his hot breath fanned her lips. “Very fucking obsessive.”T
Elina stood near the window, clutching the edge of the countertop as dawn light washed over the apartment. The sleek, modern lines of Francis Thorne’s penthouse felt like a gilded cage.“I need to go to work today,” she said, her voice deceptively calm.Francis didn’t look up from the merger contract he was dissecting, though the words had long since blurred. For three days she’d tried the same line. Three days of her insisting, him refusing. Three days of this tug-of-war he had no intention of losing.“Elina.” His tone carried a warning. “We’ve discussed this.”“You’ve discussed it. At me. Repeatedly.” She turned, crossing her
Francis wasn’t even fully awake when he answered the phone.“Yeah?” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.“Sir. It’s Archer.” The voice on the line was taut, a violin string about to snap. “Miss Rossi is in the hospital.”The words ripped him from bed. Francis sat up so fast the sheets tangled around his legs.“Explain.” His voice sharpened.“We found her in the restroom at the event venue,” he explained, breathless as though he’d run. “She’d gone in feeling dizzy. When she didn’t come out, I checked. She passed out in the last stall.”&nbs
Francis Thorne had spent most of his life controlling every variable he could. As one of the five co-owners of Thorne, Ashford, Grayson & Wolfe, one of the most powerful law firms on the West Coast, nothing ever caught him unprepared. His world ran on order, precision, and discipline.Except when it came to Elina. She had knocked the breath out of him from the moment he saw her in that bakery and now, every hour away from her gnawed at him like an open wound.“Why did Mr. Carter call saying you missed your conference call this morning?” Wesley Grayson asked, leaning into the doorway of Francis’s office.Francis looked up from the file he’d been reviewing. His expression hardened.&l







